


The Preacher's Daughter

by thinkoutsidethebex



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29100531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkoutsidethebex/pseuds/thinkoutsidethebex
Summary: After the events of Civil War, Steve and the team are on the run. When they arrive at a safehouse back in the states they meet you and your father. Steve is drawn to you and has to fight with himself to heed your father’s wishes.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	The Preacher's Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song "River" by Bishop Briggs.

The sun hung low in the sky, its last few rays splayed out above as it tried desperately to cling to the day. Soon, it would dip below the horizon, but the heat would linger well into the night, blanketing the air in a way it only could during southern summers. Steve fidgeted in his spot, his eyes flickering back and forth from the old farmhouse in front of them to the Quinjet hidden behind the tree line. Their exit from the safehouse in Stockholm had been abrupt, to say the least, and Steve was still on edge. Coming back stateside was a huge risk, which he’d told Sam and Natasha repeatedly, but in the end they all agreed it was the last place their pursuers would expect them to go. Sam seemed to be able to feel his tension and did his best to try and calm him down.

“It’s gonna be fine, Steve,” he said quietly. “This place was on the list Nat got from SHIELD. It’s safe.”

“How sure are we?” Steve asked. “I’d really love a good night’s sleep.”

“Nat seems pretty sure,” Sam replied. “She got the list directly from Fury. These are people he trusted. I think she said this guy’s a preacher or something? Should be good here for a little while.” Steve nodded once and shifted in his spot again. He was tired. He was tired of running between run-down safehouses and shitty roadside motels that looked like they could kick off their own horror movie franchise. He was tired of coded messages and missing Bucky and he just wanted something that would last. It seemed like ages before Natasha came back, the exhaustion that was settled deep in her bones made evident by her gait.

“We’re good,” she all but yawned. “Preacher’s got some spare rooms he’ll let us crash in. His daughter is coming to help with our stuff.”

“Daughter?” Steve asked, quirking a brow. “She good?”

“Preacher seems to think so,” Nat replied, gathering her things. “Fury wouldn’t have put them on the list if she wasn’t.” That was good enough for Steve’s sleep-deprived mind. He bit back a yawn and headed into the Quinjet to grab his gear. When he came back out there was someone standing with Sam and Nat, and when your eyes met it nearly knocked him on his ass.

You were wearing a simple white sundress, lightweight with silver buttons down the front and perfect for the heavy summer air. Your feet were bare, no doubt a habit from growing up with so much space to run around in, and you already had one of Natasha’s bags slung over your shoulder. When you met Steve’s gaze you flashed him a smile that lit up your face even in the failing light and he felt a tug on his heart that he hadn’t felt since the first time he met Bucky. He didn’t even realize you’d introduced yourself until Sam elbowed him in the ribs.

“O-oh, sorry,” he stammered, nodding once to you. “I’m Steve. Thanks for your help.” You giggled and offered your name again, and this time he made sure to pay attention.

“You’re all more than welcome here,” you said with another smile. “Daddy says if we aren’t willing to help Captain America then we aren’t much of anything.” A soft giggle left your lips and shook Steve to his very core. He stumbled a little as he trailed after you to the house, watching as you chatted with Nat. His eyes never left you as you led them inside and even though he was sure Sam noticed, he blessedly didn’t say anything. Steve nodded toward your father, reminding himself to offer his gratitude properly in the morning. Right now the only thing he could think about was a hot shower and a soft bed. And you.

You took the group upstairs, pointing out free rooms as you passed. Steve’s was saved for last.

“This is yours,” you said softly, playing with a loose thread on your dress. “It’s the best room in the house. When the sun comes up you get a great view of the willow tree on the river. It’s my favorite.” You offered him a soft smile that made his stomach flip and his cheeks flush.

“Th-Thank you,” he managed to stammer. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate all this.”

“We’re happy to help,” you replied, still giving him that heart-stopping smile. “I’ll let you get settled in. Good night, Captain.” As you turned to go Steve found himself slightly desperate to keep you close. He wanted to talk to you, to get to know you, and just be near you. Millions of words raced through his brain, but he only managed to get one out.

“Steve,” he blurted rather abruptly. You stopped in your tracks and turned to look at him with a curious expression.

“Huh?”

“Y-You can just call me Steve…if you want.” That damn smile. It came back across your face and knocked the air right out of his lungs. He was sure he was about to burst when you finally said his name.

“Good night, Steve.”

Sunlight pricked Steve’s eyelids much earlier than he’d hoped for the next morning. Ever since he was a kid he could never stay asleep once the sun came up. It came in handy in the army but right now, buried in the first comfortable bed he’d laid in for months, he hated himself for it. He tossed the covers back and stretched his arms up over his head as he stood, fumbling in his bag for fresh clothes. The team would take the day to rest, and tomorrow they would come together to plan their next move. That was the routine they’d established a while ago. Take a day. Regroup. Make a plan. Normally, it made Steve antsy. Staying still made him feel vulnerable. He preferred to have Plan A, B, C, and D before he took a breath. Today, however, he felt different. For the first time in a long time, he felt excited. There was nothing to do and no plans to make but somewhere in this house was you. Steve couldn’t explain why he felt so drawn to you. He was desperate to be near you again; to hear you say his name and to see you smile the way you did. He dressed himself quickly, tossing his bag into the armchair in the corner and opened the door, only to find himself face-to-face with your father.

“O-Oh,” he stuttered, his steps faltering. “Good morning, sir.” The preacher looked up at him, his eyes holding a tiredness Steve recognized all too well. It was a war-torn weariness, born in the field of battle and nourished by the blood of fallen friends and the faceless enemies they’d been sworn to defeat. He wanted to ask about it. There were volumes of stories written in the lines on the preacher’s face, but Steve knew from experience not to bring it up.

“Mornin’,” the preacher grunted in return. A heavy feeling settled between them that Steve was sure had nothing to do with the already building humidity, and he shifted on his feet.

“We can’t thank you enough for taking us in,” Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck. “If there’s anything we can do-“

“Stay away from my daughter,” the old man interrupted. Steve blinked in surprise and took a step back, stumbling slightly.

“I-I’m sorry?” he said befuddled. “I don’t think I know what you mean.”

“Yeah, you do,” the preacher replied solemnly. “You know what it’s like for men like us. What we do to women like that. She’s sunshine and light and every good thing in this world. Only good thing I’ve ever done with my miserable life. But us? We’re grit and grime. The world’s already chewed us up and spit us out and when we touch someone as pure as that girl, they’re never the same. We’re broken men, so desperate to feel somethin’ that we grab the first good thing we find and hold on tight, hopin’ like hell their goodness is enough to fix us. But it never is, son. All that happens is we end up breakin’ them too. S’what happened to her mother and I’ll be God damned if I let that happen to her.” There was no anger or malice in his voice, but something about his calmness sent shivers up Steve’s spine. Before he had a chance to tell the preacher he wasn’t like that and he’d never treat a woman that way, his host turned away from him and hobbled down the hall. Steve watched him go, slightly dumbstruck, with a war raging in his mind. On the one hand, there was you. He’d felt something the moment he first saw you that he couldn’t explain. Something burned in his gut that drove him to want to be close to you. Your father was right when he’d described you as sunshine and light. That light, and the warmth that had flooded Steve when he first saw you, was something he was sure he’d never get enough of. He wanted to cling to you the way the sunset had been desperate to cling to the day when he’d arrived.

On the other hand, he had to consider the position he’d been put in. If he went against your father and kept after you he was sure the entire team would be put out, ending up back on that damn Quinjet and off to god knows what corner of the world again. The thought of being torn away from you like that hit him like a slap in the face. Not only would he never see you again, but he’d also be responsible for pulling Sam and Nat from somewhere they could actually be safe. The team deserved some kind of peace, if only for a short amount of time. Beyond that, there was the chance that you would want to go with him, and he could never put you in danger like that. This was no way to live, especially for you. With a heavy sigh, Steve closed his door and flopped back into the bed, determined to do whatever it took to keep you off his mind.

They ended up staying at the farmhouse for much longer than Steve planned. At first, it was only meant to be a few days while they recuperated from the Stockholm attack. Days turned into a week which turned into two and before Steve could blink they had been there for a month. After his run-in with your father, Steve had instructed the team to keep their distance as best they could. They had seemed a bit skeptical, but he’d offered up the excuse of not wanting to get in the way that seemed to appease them both. It was a working farm after all, and between you and your father and all the hands that worked with you, the idea of staying out of the way was easy enough. In theory. Keeping his head low and staying out of the way was Army 101. But in practice, it was near torture. You had this incredible ability to pop up wherever Steve went, flashing that smile and batting your eyes at him, and he never heard you coming. One minute he’d be alone and the next you’d be there, like a cat that had just surprised its prey. You always came with the most innocent of requests; heavy bales of hay that needed to be moved in the barn or large buckets of milk that needed to be loaded into the truck.

“Everyone is busy, and it needs to be done soon,” you’d say, sticking out your bottom lip in a way that made Steve want to sink his teeth into it. “Can you please help? Please?” He obliged every time, telling himself that helping with farm chores would keep them in good standing with your father. Truthfully, he just wanted any excuse he could find to be close to you. And something in him told him you knew it. He could see it in the way you watched him help you around the farm. You’d look up at him through your lashes and smirk while you toyed with the crucifix that always managed to find a home between your breasts. The way you looked at him made him made his face burn and his breath hitch but almost as soon as he met your gaze, it was over. Your sweet, innocent smile would reappear, and Steve would be left with whatever chore you’d asked for help with before him, and a burning feeling of desire in his chest.

At night, when he thought he could find solace between his sheets and breathy whimpers of your name, you only showed how strong your hold over him was. The willow tree on the river that you had mentioned on his first day, that his room happened to overlook, proved to be your favorite spot, just like you said. Steve could practically set his watch by the creak of the stairs at 10:30 every night that meant you were on your way out. He knew he shouldn’t look. He knew the swims you took under the willow weren’t meant for his eyes, but the sight of you dripping wet and bathed in moonlight drew him in like a moth to a flame. Every night he found himself waiting, his foot tapping against the floor until he heard that comforting creak on the staircase, and every night he told himself he wouldn’t look this time. The first splash of your body hitting the water always proved to be his undoing though, and he ended up sitting beside the window, attempting to hide his shame in the shadows.

A month had passed, and Steve found himself once again staring out his window into the night. He was waiting, his foot tapping against the floor as his ears searched for the sound of you coming down the stairs. He checked his watch and furrowed his brow. It was nearly 10:45 and he was growing restless. You were never late. At least you hadn’t been the entire time Steve had been on the farm. Were you sick? Or hurt? Had you finally caught him watching you and decided it was best to stop your moonlit swims? Shame flooded Steve’s chest at the thought. His mind raced as he played out what might happen next and how furious you and your father would be with him. He had already started planning his apology and retreat from your home when he heard a gentle knock at his door. For a second, he considered pretending he was asleep, but that idea was thrown out the window at the next sound.

“Steve?” came your voice, accompanied by another knock. “Are you in there?” Swallowing the lump in his throat, Steve scrambled to the door, tripping over the chest at the end of the bed as he did. He yanked open the door to find you there, beaming up at him. The smile took him by surprise. He was so sure you’d be angry with him yet here you were, bright-eyed as ever.

“H-Hi,” he managed, looking over you. “Is everything ok?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” you replied. “Did you fall?” Steve’s face burned red at your question. He didn’t think his clumsiness had been quite so loud.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “Did you need help with something?” Your smile faltered a bit at his question, and you shifted in your spot.

“I was wondering,” you said, looking down and playing with your fingers. “Would you like to come for a walk with me? And maybe a swim?” Steve’s stomach fell and his mouth went dry. It reminded him of the time Bucky had taken him to Coney Island and forced him to ride the Cyclone. His mind screamed at him to say no. It warned him that nothing good could come from this and that going with you would only cause problems. He didn’t think he could trust himself around you, and the last thing he wanted was to put you in a position where you felt like you had to choose between him and your father. Despite all this, he found himself nodding and following you from the room, the familiar creak of the staircase somehow managing to calm his racing mind.

He walked behind you out into the humid night, his fingers twitching and longing to wrap around yours. There was a charge in the air between you, aided in part by the distant rumble of thunder. The storm was far enough away that Steve wasn’t concerned but close enough to fill the air with a heavy electricity. You walked beside him toward the willow, keeping your eyes down and your hands clasped in front of you. Steve could see you stealing glances at him because he was stealing them back at you and when you locked eyes with him both of you turned away with cheeks aflame. The tree towered over you as you approached and ran your fingers over the handing tendrils. They framed you like a curtain as you looked back over your shoulder at Steve, biting your lip nervously.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked softly. Steve’s eyes widened as he looked up at you and shook his head.

“N-No! Of course not,” he half-shouted. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s just…you don’t really talk to me,” you started, avoiding his gaze. “After that first night, I thought there might have been something. But now it feels like you don’t want anything to do with me. And if you don’t that’s ok, I just want to know one way or the other.” Steve’s heart jumped into his throat as he cursed himself. He thought that by staying away from you he was keeping you safe from him, but here he was causing you the exact pain he thought he was sparing you from. This time he did reach out, catching your hand in his and turning you gently to face him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, squeezing gently and savoring the feeling of your hand in his. “I thought this would be better. For both of us. The way I live now it’s…complicated. I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

“Don’t you think I deserve a say in that?” you countered, causing Steve to stop in his tracks. How had he never considered in all of this that you might want him as much as he wanted you? You took his other hand in yours and laced your fingers together.

“I supposed you do,” he replied with a soft smirk. “I’m sorry, doll.” Heat flooded your cheeks at the pet name, and you giggled softly.

“I’ll forgive you on one condition,” you said, releasing his hand and trailing your fingers up his chest. His breath caught as he looked down at you, shivering gently under your touch.

“O-Oh? What’s that?” he asked, rubbing your arm gently. You took a step back and smiled brighter at him as you reached behind you to unzip your dress.

“Swim with me,” you said. Blood rushed in Steve’s ears as he watched you slip your dress off, leaving you standing in your bra and panties. Your crucifix hung in the same spot as always and try as he might, Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

“O-Ok,” he breathed, his hands shaking as he moved to pull off his shirt. He expected you to look away as he shed his clothes, but you didn’t. Your eyes scanned over his body as he stripped down to his boxers and he felt a small flash of self-consciousness in him.

“Enjoying the show?” he tried to joke, his cheeks burning. Still, your eyes drank him in as you nodded softly.

“Absolutely,” you said as you held out your hand again. “Come on. The water’s not getting any warmer.” Steve swallowed thickly as he took your hand and you led him into the water. It was much warmer than he expected, almost like a bath that had been drawn just for the two of you. Everything was out in the open and exposed but somehow Steve felt safe and secure with you. He followed you further and further until you were shoulder-deep in the water and you turned to face him again, shooting him another smile that sent him reeling. You were glowing. Stars reflected off the water’s surface and shone bright in your eyes as the moonlight sparkled on your skin. He recalled your father telling him you were sunshine but in this moment Steve realized he was wrong. You were moonlight and stardust with entire galaxies behind your eyes, and Steve found himself wanting nothing more than to get lost in them.

“I can see why you like this,” he said softly, behind his knees to bring himself level with you. You hummed softly and nodded, tilting your head up to the sky.

“Everything here is always so loud and busy. When I’m out here it’s the only time I feel like I have any quiet.” He nodded in agreement as he moved closer to you, watching your hands skim back and forth over the surface of the water.

“I know what you mean,” he said softly. “Everyone’s always expecting something from me. It’s nice to take a break from all that.” You closed the gap between you and reached out to trace your fingers along his arms. Steve shivered despite the heat of the night and the warm water, stepping closer still. Your hands ran up his arms gently before sliding slowly back down his chest.

“Steve?” Every time you said his name it set butterflies off in his stomach, and your fingers dancing along his chest did nothing to help.

“Yes, doll?” he replied. His hands seemed to reach out of their own accord, sliding down your sides and fitting themselves gently around your hips.

“Are you ever gonna kiss me?” Steve’s hands froze at your waist as yours traveled up, your fingers brushing lightly against his jaw. This was the exact thing your father had told him not to do. His heart thudded so loudly in his chest he was sure you could hear it and your touch left goosebumps in its wake. He knew he was making a mistake but that didn’t stop him from drawing you closer. Promises be damned. He _wanted_ you.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he whispered, leaning down so his lips were mere centimeters from yours. He watched as your eyes slipped closed and you nodded quickly.

“Please,” you breathed, sliding your hands behind his neck and into his hair. He took one more look at your chest rising and falling quickly with your crucifix nestled between your breasts before he leaned in to capture your lips with his.

You tasted like honeysuckle and maple sugar. Your lips were just as soft as Steve had imagined them to be. He kept kissing you slowly, pulling you as close to him as he could get you. Your fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling another shiver from him. He could feel the smirk that played on your lips as he pressed his chest against yours. He never wanted this to end. Right now there was no running, no accords, no wondering which safehouses were really safe. All there was in this moment was your lips on his and your arms around him. The world could be ending for all he knew, and Steve didn’t care. He could have spent forever kissing you and he was sure it wouldn’t be enough time. Soft moans fell from your lips as your hands slid down his chest. His skin flamed under your touch and he squeezed your hips gently. He wanted more. He wanted you. To see you pleading and falling apart under him. A growl rumbled in his chest as he kissed you deeper, and he felt you shudder against him. Your fingers dug lightly into his chest and Steve knew he was at the edge of a decision. If he kept going he wouldn’t be able to stop. Your kiss was intoxicating and every second he spent with his lips on yours he could feel his self-control slipping. But he couldn’t. Not here. With every ounce of strength he possessed, Steve pulled his lips away and rested his forehead against yours. Air flooded back into his lungs and he realized just then how bad they had burned for it a second before.

“Doll,” he panted softly, keeping you close. “You keep things up you’re gonna make me a sinner.” You smiled and kissed him softly again.

“Maybe that’s what I want, Captain,” you smirked, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth. Steve groaned softly and brought his hands up to cup your face, pulling you back gently to look you over. Your cheeks were flushed and your lips were swollen and Steve was positive he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

“Oh, babygirl,” Steve mumbled softly, brushing his thumbs along your cheeks. “You’re gonna get me in trouble.” You giggled softly and smiled up at him.

“We should get inside,” you said, still running your fingers along his chest. He groaned softly and leaned in to kiss you again.

“You’re gonna be the death of me darlin’,” he said. “Let’s go.” You slid your hands along his arms and took his hands in yours, squeezing softly. He led you from the water and gathered your clothes, kissing you one more time before getting dressed. The two of you made your way back toward the house, giggling and stealing kisses as you went. Your wet clothes clung to you, sending shivers through you both. Steve felt lighter than he had in ages. He was laughing for the first time in as long as he could remember as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed kisses to your cheeks. The sound of your laughter filled the air as you held him close, stealing more kisses.

“Shhh, Steve,” you giggled, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “We have to be quiet or we’ll wake up Daddy.” His heart froze in his chest at the mention of your father. He felt like he’d been doused in ice-cold water as he looked up at the house. It towered over him, more menacing than it has seemed when you left, and he could see the light on in your father’s window. The curtains were drawn but he still felt like someone was watching him. Beside him you stiffened, seeming to sense the shift in his mood. You followed his gaze up to the house and reached up to cup his face, turning it gently to face you.

“Hey,” you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “It’s ok. Everything is going to be ok. I promise.” Steve smiled and took your wrist in his hand. He turned to place a gentle kiss to your palm, closing his eyes.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” You smiled softly and nodded, leading Steve around to the back of the house and sneaking in through the back door. You both climbed the stairs quietly, sidestepping the ones that creaked so as to not wake anyone. Steve couldn’t help but rake his eyes over you, hypnotized by the way your dress clung to your wet skin. He thought about peeling it off of you, along with everything that was underneath it. He thought about taking you apart piece by piece and seeing you writhing and whimpering underneath him. Suddenly and without warning, your father’s words played again in his head, filling him with unease.

_We’re broken men, so desperate to feel somethin’ that we grab the first good thing we find and hold on tight, hopin’ like hell their goodness is enough to fix us. But it never is, son. All that happens is we end up breakin’ them too._

His steps faltered as you reached your door and turned to look at him, your brow furrowed. A shadow of hurt and confusion passed over your face.

“Steve?” you asked as your face fell. “Is everything ok?” Steve’s chest tightened as he swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Y-Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, offering you a soft smile. “I just think maybe I should say good night.” His heart lurched as the hurt spread fully across your face and he wanted more than anything to pull his words back and swallow them.

“Oh,” you said quietly. “Sure. I understand.” You took a step back and reached for your doorknob and Steve could see the reflection of tears already forming in your eyes.

“No, baby it’s not like that,” he said, moving to cup your face in his hands. “I just meant…I don’t want to rush into anything. We have time. I’m not going anywhere, ok?” He brushed his thumbs along your cheeks and waited for the smile to break before he let out the breath he was holding.

“Ok,” you said, reaching up to rub his arms gently. “But you have to kiss me goodnight.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled, leaning down to press his lips to yours again.

Raindrops tapped against Steve’s window the next morning, pulling him from dreams about your lips on his and his hands on your skin. The ghost of the smile he’d fallen asleep with still played on his lips as he stood up to get dressed. The storm he’d heard the night before had finally found the house and thunder rumbled in the sky. It was Saturday which meant you’d be up already and on your way into town to get groceries. He had a few hours to kill before you’d be back and a host of thoughts banging around inside his skull. He grabbed his tablet and decided to head out into the barn. Your father would no doubt be in the house with weather like this and Steve definitely didn’t want to see him. Not yet anyway. The barn was his favorite spot on the farm. Well, second favorite now. On rainy days like this it was quiet and warm, the perfect spot for him to hide and think.

Steve made his way downstairs and darted out through the rain, sliding the heavy barn door closed behind him. Once he was inside he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Fresh hay had been laid down by one of the farmhands this morning and its scent mixed with the heavy one of the wet earth that wafted in through the open window. It filled Steve with calm as he climbed up into the loft. He found a spot near enough to a window that he could hear the rain but far enough away that he wouldn’t get wet and sat down, unlocking his tablet. He flipped through some of the files absently and let his mind wander.

Conflicted was an understatement. He didn’t know what to do about you. From the first moment he’d met you he knew there was something about you. Maybe it had something to do with you being the innocent preacher’s daughter. Maybe it was being on the run without someone warm in bed beside him for so long. He shook his head softly and flipped to another file. He knew it was more than loneliness that caused you to drive him absolutely crazy. Especially after last night. Now, more than ever, Steve wanted to know everything there was to know about you. He wanted your laughter in his ear and your soft touches against his face. Even more than that, he wanted you tangled in his sheets at night and wrapped in his arms as you slept. He could ask you to run away with him, he supposed. After all, once your father found out Steve had broken his only rule they would all be forced to leave.

“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head. He couldn’t do that to you. If he took you with him, he would be doing exactly what your father warned him about. Life with him was a life on the run. The second he’d entered your home you and your father had become accessories to the laundry list of crimes the team had committed. Harboring a fugitive was hardly an ideal way to start a relationship. Steve had always prided himself on being this stalwart and true hero and now here he was, a breath away from pulling you into his disaster of a life. His mind was still buzzing when he flipped to a new screen on the tablet. He had somehow ended up in the files Natasha had dumped after Project Insight had gone down in flames and something familiar caught his eye.

The picture on the screen was in black and white, but it showed a house that Steve recognized. He tilted his head and brought the screen closer. A pit formed in his stomach as he took in the shutters, the door, and the tree in the front yard. It was your house. He was sure of it. He could picture you on the porch calling out for him to help you with the chores. Steve’s brow furrowed as he flipped to the next picture which showed the location of your home on a map with a small label beside it.

 _HYDRA Operative #31074._  
Status: Retired: Under protective custody.  
Threat level: Minimal

It felt like someone had taken Steve’s lungs and forcibly squeezed all the air from them. The tablet shook in his hands as he read the words over and over. This couldn’t be right. There had to be another explanation. Fury wouldn’t have added a HYDRA operative to the small list of safehouses he’d managed to put together for Natasha. Would he? Tentatively, he scrolled further, looking for answers. The next screen showed an email sent from a name he didn’t recognize to Jasper Sitwell.

_J-_

_Fury has been eliminated but the asset is compromised. Not sure Insight will succeed. Requesting immediate extraction with protection to farm._

_-X_

Steve still felt sick to his stomach as he looked down to Sitwell’s reply.

_Understood. Extraction at 0700 tomorrow. See attached photo for approved protection detail. Cover instructions to be provided by detail. Reconvene in 3 months._

There was a file attached to Sitwell’s response and as much as he didn’t want to, Steve knew he had to open it. He understood little of what the emails referred to, but he knew the asset they were referring to was Bucky and his failed attempt on Fury’s life. His hands were still shaking and his head spinning as he reached up and tapped on the icon. The second the file opened and he saw your face, he threw the tablet aside and stormed from the barn.

That image would haunt Steve for the rest of his life. Seeing you in tac gear with a gun drawn and blood streaming down your face was more than he could bear. How could this be happening? He’d woken up this morning thinking he was falling in love with you, and now everything was falling apart faster than he could even think. You were HYDRA. Both of you were. And he’d let his team walk right into your house.

He barely noticed the rain against his face as he sprinted back to the house and yanked open the door, nearly tearing it off its hinges. Steve needed answers and since he knew you wouldn’t be back yet, your father was his next best source. He scoffed to himself at the thought. _Your father._ Clearly, that had been the first of who knows how many lies you’d told him. He wasn’t even sure he knew your real name at this point. For all he knew this had been some elaborate plan to take him out. And he’d let you in. What a fucking idiot he’d been.

Steve’s stomping footsteps echoed throughout the empty house as he searched for the false preacher. The living room, the kitchen, and the dining room were all empty, but he could smell cigar smoke coming from somewhere in the house. He took the stairs two at a time and made for the office at the end of the front hall. They had all been told on their first day that the office belonged to your father and he asked that none of you go in, but as Steve got closer the smell of smoke got stronger and stronger and he didn’t care to cater to a liar’s request. Once his hand was on the doorknob he registered the sound of movement from inside the room. With a deep breath, Steve tugged open the door.

The old man sat behind his desk, a fat cigar sticking out of his mouth. He took a long drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke as Steve looked around and took in the room. Every inch of the walls and every shelf that was hung was covered with newspaper clippings, and most of them were about Steve. Some of them were from the ‘40s, celebrating his victories and losses overseas, and others were from after he was found in the ice. His eyes found words from the battle of New York and the bombing in Vienna before stopping on the man behind the desk.

“I was wonderin’ when you’d find out,” the old man said, taking another drag. “For her sake, I was hopin’ you wouldn’t.” Steve was slightly taken aback by the calmness in his voice. It was the same calm he had exhibited when he’d warned Steve to stay away from you. He’d entered the room prepared for a fight, but it became quickly apparent he wasn’t getting one.

“You’re not even gonna deny it?” Steve demanded, balling his fists.

“What’s the use?” the preacher replied with a shrug. “S’clear you know. I’d just be wastin’ both our time.”

“Fury trusted you,” Steve hissed through gritted teeth. “We trusted you.”

“Cuz I never gave him or you a reason not to,” he said, finally looking into Steve’s eyes. “I’m not some great villain, Captain. I’m just a man. Like you. A man who made mistakes. I made a name for myself at SHIELD when I was approached by HYDRA. I tried to tell them no. But they had my family. So I traded information to keep them safe. In the end, it didn’t matter. HYDRA killed ‘em anyway. By then I was too deep to get out and had nothin’ left to lose. When I realized SHIELD was about to fall I was ready to put it to bed and Sitwell set this all up.”

“Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” Steve snapped. “You think you can make excuses for selling out your country and all will be forgiven? How many people died because you were in too deep?”

“S’not an excuse,” the preacher said. “Just an explanation. That girl out there had less of a choice than me. They pulled her into this as a kid and brainwashed her into thinkin’ she was doin’ good. She got sent here for me and even when everything fell apart and she could have gone back, she stayed. She’s been here this whole time to take care of me. And I can tell she loves you. Remember that before you write her off. Whatever her past might be she fell for you here and now.”

Stunned silence filled the air and Steve found himself fighting to maintain his anger. He expected a real confrontation and maybe even a physical one, but instead, he’d gotten a glimpse of the man behind the curtain. The façade had tumbled down and all that was left was the cold, hard truth staring back at Steve in the preacher’s eyes. Sadness and pity mixed with the rage that still burned in his gut.

“We’ll be gone by nightfall,” he said coldly, earning a sigh from the old man. He stood, his joints creaking as he did, and hobbled to the door.

“Can’t say I’m surprised by that,” he mumbled. “Might be best if you’re gone before she gets back.”

“Best for who?” Steve snapped, his eyes following the old man to the door. Thunder tumbled gently as he stood in the doorway and looked back at the captain. Steve once again saw the weariness in his eyes and it somehow looked ten times as heavy now that the veil of deception had lifted.

“For all of us,” he answered before turning to leave the room.

“Why did you tell me to stay away from her?” Steve asked quickly. “She’s not really your daughter, so why did you put so much into trying to keep us apart?” He sighed again and kept his eyes on the floor.

“She might not be my blood but she’s my girl,” he replied. “I knew if she fell for you it’d end up like this. I was tryin’ to spare you both.” With that, he left the office.

Steve stood rooted to the floorboards for several moments. Anger wailed in his chest as he listened to the rain beating against the window. The storm was picking up. The pain of finding out the truth about you hurt him more than any bullet hit or knife wound ever could. He felt like a fool. They had been on the run for so long, so far removed from society and human contact that Steve had stupidly been willing to run into the arms of the first person with a soft smile and some pretty words. A loud peal of thunder pulled Steve from his thoughts. He had to get out of this house. One more second here would be a second too long. He turned on his heel and marched from the office, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

The walk back to his room took eons. His breath was tight in his chest and the walls seemed like they were closing in on him. When he finally made it back he had every intention of throwing his clothes hastily in his bag and rushing Sam and Nat to do the same, but instead ,on instinct, he looked out the open window at the willow tree. Steve had left it open on purpose, hoping the rain would have cooled off the room. If it did, he couldn’t tell because the second he saw the long branches of the tree dipping in and out of the river his entire body flushed, and he was overcome with the memory of you standing there with that damn smile on your face. He remembered the way your skin felt under his hands and how perfectly your lips fit against his. They were so intense, and Steve became so lost in them, that he almost didn’t register the sound of your car door slamming shut.

“Daddy?” you called, breaking Steve from his trance. “What are you doing out here in the rain? You’ll catch your death.” The curtains billowed in the wind as Steve listened. He forced himself to focus as your father told you everything. Even over the sound of the rain he could hear you drop your bags and whimper as you pleaded with your father, begging him to tell you it wasn’t true. It wasn’t until you started running toward the house that he moved. He grabbed his duffle and threw it on the bed. Your footsteps echoed on the stairs and you called his name as Steve began to roll his clothes and shove them in the bag. You appeared suddenly in his doorway, panting hard and staring at him with wide eyes. Even now, with all the anger he felt, Steve couldn’t help but think how beautiful you were. The rain had matted your hair to your face and your dress to your skin. It was the same white one you had worn the night he’d arrived, splattered with mud on the bottom from where you’d dropped your bags. Steve faltered for a moment when he saw the way your chest heaved but quickly turned back to his packing.

“Steve,” you breathed, your voice laced with desperation and longing. That was enough to stop him cold. His hands shook as he set his clothes down and looked up into your eyes. You looked different. Gone was the innocence you’d carried as the preacher’s daughter. Someone less trained probably wouldn’t have noticed the change in the way you held yourself or the fact that your eyes scanned the room more often than normal. But Steve did, and the instant he did he felt his heart shatter within his chest. He opened his mouth, ready to scream and fight, but you took a step forward.

“Don’t,” you begged, stopping him before he could start. “Don’t say it. If you say it then it’s real and all this falls apart. So, please Steve, for once in your life just shut your god damn mouth.” There were tears in your eyes. Steve hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected any of the things that had happened since he woke up. Maybe your tears were important. Maybe they meant that your father was right, and you really did love him. That didn’t matter now. There was no way he could trust you and he was still so mad that all he wanted to do was punch something. He cocked his head and tossed his clothes aside, walking over to you and pulling you into the room, slamming the door behind you. A small whimper escaped your lips as he pushed you against the wall and kissed you hard.

This was nothing like the kisses he’d given you the night before. When you were in the water his kisses had been soft and sweet, your lips rolling gently over each others. Now, with the truth exposed and your secrets known, they were hard and rough, all teeth and tongue. Steve caged your head with his arms, pressing his body against yours and pinning you to the wall. Your hands found his hair and you tugged gently as you kissed him back and fruitlessly fought him for dominance. He was Captain America, after all. A growl rumbled deep in his chest as he picked you up and tossed you onto the bed, covering your body with his a second later.

Steve lost himself in you. Every ounce of anger and frustration he felt flowed through him like a river as his body ran over yours. Neither of you knew exactly how much time had passed in his bed but you didn’t care. Steve forgot everything that wasn’t you under him, your fingers laced with his over your head, or the breathy moans he pulled from you with every thrust of his hips. He could feel himself drowning in you, and part of him hoped that he would. By the time you both collapsed onto the bed, sweaty and sticking to the sheets, the storm had passed, and the moon was peeking through the window. Steve’s heart hammered in his chest and his breath came in pants as he looked down at you. Your legs were still tangled in his and your head rested on his chest as you closed your eyes. He could see bruises beginning to bloom all over your body; teeth marks on your shoulders, handprints on your hips, fingerprints on your neck. His hands shook slightly as he brushed some hair back from your face. For a moment he wondered what your father would say when he saw you like this, and then he remembered. With your cover blown he had to assume this was the end for the farmhouse. His mind buzzed and brought him back down to earth as he absently traced patterns along your shoulder. He listened to your breathing, waiting to move until it had evened out. Slowly, he untangled himself from you and stood up. He moved quietly around the room, gathering his wildly discarded clothing and quickly redressing. Your back was to him as he picked up his duffel and stood with his hand on the doorknob, taking one last look at you. Moonlight flooded over your skin, making you almost seem to sparkle. To any outside observer, Steve would seem cruel right now, leaving you as you slept without a word. With a sigh, he opened the door.

“I love you, Steve,” you whispered, stopping him dead. “I know you probably don’t believe me, but I never lied about how I feel for you. That was real.” The blood in his veins ran cold. He kept his eyes on you, half-expecting you to jump out of bed and beg him to stay. You didn’t though. Steve wasn’t sure it would have worked if you did. Taking one last breath Steve left the room, closing the door behind him. He could hear the sobs that started to pour from you as he made his way down the stairs and out the door.


End file.
